three days and counting.

Six months ago I was frantic at the prospect of going to Las Vegas not having met any of my weight goals. Mostly because all I was doing was intermittently starving myself and praying that it made an impact on the scale.

This time around, I'm actually doing something about it. This time around, I actually EXCEEDED my goals.

I started my period yesterday. I think it was a little late? Not too late though, maybe just a week to ten days. It didn't worry me at all because it was two months late in November so I'm happy to have some semblance of a routine again. I'm 100% certain this is Diamox related, but I haven't talked to Dr Stern about it and I trust my BC so I'm not too worked up about it. Minus the part where my uterus is trying to kill me.

On the one hand, Diamox does wonderful, wonderful things, especially in relation to my period. I don't bloat which is GREAT. My cramps are minimal, manageable at worst. But the last two months have been especially brutal in this department. The flow is high and dense. It's almost impossible to sleep without making several bathroom trips... scratch that, it's impossible to do anything without making several bathroom trips.

Putting those issues aside though, it's an intense four days and then I'm done. Could be worse, I suppose. And for the first time in the history of my vagina, my period actually has GOOD TIMING for once. I should be done by Sunday, Monday at the latest, so that I don't have to spend my entire vacation worrying about bleeding through my pants. Ugh, women problems.



I spent the whole day yesterday with one of my BFFs. We went shopping, it was just supposed to be a short trip to take advantage of the buy-one-get-one-free sale on loose powders at Hot Topic (I got pink, orange, and gold for Vegas), but I was enjoying the shopping atmosphere so much that we took a gander around the mall. I remembered seeing this dress on the Old Navy website that I thought would be perfect for the wedding next week so I went to find it. Alas, they had it in TWO colors, both of which I picked up and took to the dressing room. While searching the racks, I found two other dresses that I decided to take with me to the dressing room for shits and giggles. I was certain that the first dress I picked would be the one and instead it looked like shit... in both colors. I tried on a frilly coral colored dress next and it was screaming TAKE ME HOME. The last dress was one I took out of pity because it looked so sad on the rack. I was positive that it was going to look horrible, so you can imagine my surprise when I tried it on and realized THAT was my wedding dress.

After dinner we went back to my apartment to try on the dresses some more, and that's when I had the genius idea to pair the wedding dress with a pair of black tights. The problem, however, was that the tights didn't fit when I bought them almost two months ago (I could pull them up to mid-thigh before the fabric reached its stretch limit and rendered me an awkward mermaid). But I couldn't return the tights so I tucked them in the back of my sock drawer for a skinnier day (I was thinking along the lines of next winter). Alas, I needed these tights to fit TODAY. I rolled the dice and came up a winner! The tights are a little snug around the bottom, but I am SO FREAKING THRILLED that in two months I have slimmed down enough to pull these tights over my thighs and around my bum. BAM - screw you, 30 pounds... I didn't need you anyway.

In addition to the tights, I am rediscovering the thrills of wearing heels. I had such a hard time admitting it before, but being so heavy made it damn near impossible for me to walk in heels. It wasn't that I was out of practice, it's that my very heavy frame had no business balancing on the very tiny surface of a stiletto. To compliment the wedding outfit, I pulled out some of my FAVORITE silver heels.

Picture this, picture this:

Champagne colored silk dress, sleeveless, knee length, sits high and round on the neck
Black tights
Dark silver shoes (very similar to these except mine only have 2 straps... full disclosure, I HAD MINE FIRST. Celine be jackin' my style)
silver jewelry
cropped black cardigan for weather emergencies

Do you know what this reminds me of? That Versace monstrosity Celine wore to the Vanity Fair Oscar after party a few years back. But I'm going to look SO MUCH HOTTER. I'm not sure what to do with the hair yet, but I can tell you that I am SO IN LOVE with this outfit that I'm planning on wearing it to Celine AND to the wedding. Here's to hoping I don't wreck the fabric.

The purpose for sharing all these completely unnecessary details is sevenfold:

1. To prove that persistence pays off
2. To prove that every little bit counts
3. To display the succulent fruits of such awful labor
4. To put things in perspective
5. To congratulate myself
6. To remind myself where I was, where I've been, and where I hope I'm headed
7. To keep it fun!

1. Over the holidays, EVERYONE noticed my weight loss. Not just the people I see every day, not just the people I haven't seen in ages, I'm talking ev-er-y-one. Myself included. When it was 2 pounds, 5 pounds, 10 pounds, hell... even 20 pounds, I wasn't entirely sure that it was making a difference. But now that I'm closing in on 30, I SEE IT. I FEEL IT. I WANT TO SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS. I kept at it, and it was totally worth it.

2. Yesterday while shopping, I told my friend I had to workout. Regardless of the time of day, I HAD to go. At 11pm she brushed it off and said it was "too late" and we should probably just call it a night. I said no, and went to the gym anyway. I'm a normal person living a normal life, sometimes I have to go to the gym at 11pm. Sometimes it's 4am, sometimes it's middle of the afternoon. The point it, my weight loss has come in 30-minute bite sized portions since it's not practical for me to spend half a day exercising. No one believes me when I say I only exercise for 35 minutes a day -- there's NO WAY you could do half an hour and get results like this. But it's true... if you do it EVERY DAY. Every little bit counts.

3. There's no better feeling in the world than slipping on a piece of clothing that didn't fit two months ago to find that it fits perfectly now. Shopping in smaller sizes is SUCH a mood lifter.

The last four are self-explanatory, just a reaffirmation to myself that this is a process, I am on a journey without an end point in mind. It's about stopping to smell the roses, and by that I mean stopping to enjoy the fact that your feet are skinnier than before.



Happy new year.

cooking for one sucks.

I was at home for five days, and during that time I didn't have much regard for what I was eating. There was enchiladas, tamales (lots and lots of tamales), menudo and white bread, sandwiches and cheese cubes to snack on, mini bags of various chips (mostly just hot cheetos out of preference), brisket, potato salad, nachos galore...

It was a shit show. Oh, we can't forget about the liquor: I had to booze my way through the weekend to avoid a really uncomfortable situation. On the day I arrived, I made a pitcher of Long Island Ice Tea mix and I worked my way through it all weekend (countless cans of Squirt and Coke to boot). Also, I didn't exercise. Not once. I didn't even walk the dogs a single time.

Yesterday I got straight off the Megabus and a friend drove me directly to work. I hadn't eaten all day so I ordered Milio's, but they were busy and in the 45 minute wait I hit a bag of candy with such fervor... oh boy. I had such a sugar crash yesterday, it was horrible. And it did really bad things to my stomach too, but that didn't stop me from having a handful of vodka gummy bears at the end of the night.

When I woke up this morning I knew I just had to weigh myself and get back on the wagon, but the scale scares me after weekends like this. Scale reads: 268. Umm... SERioUSLY? I left Iowa City last week weighing 269, so after ALL that food and liquor and candy, I LOST a pound?

NO. FUCKIN. WAY.

I am so seriously encouraged that even without exercising, I'm maintaining my weight... because maintenance is key. This proves to me that I have a handle on serving sizes and I know my limit when it comes to the good stuff. YAY ME!



I set 3 alarms to make sure I woke up early enough for the gym today, but when I woke up I was not in a gym mood. I decided it was best to save my workout for after work since that's when I have the most energy anyhow. I laid in bed a little longer to appreciate being back home, then I took a nice long shower. I stepped out at 1:30 and realized I had too much time to kill, so I started to cook.

I missed having control over what foods I eat. While I was at my parents', I ate whatever they made; I could add salt or pepper, I could control portion sizes, but I really didn't have much say in what was cooked or how it was done. Don't get me wrong, the food was wonderful. But I like knowing exactly what I'm eating.

I'm actually energized to cook again, despite being in the middle of a weird travel schedule. Today I made broccoli and chicken stirfry with white rice. I made half of what I normally make, and then I split that in half to make two meals: I put one in the fridge for tomorrow, and I took one to work for tonight. I still have half a raw chicken breast to cook, and I have a small bag of yukon golds that I'm hoping to turn into latkes tomorrow. My goal is to clean out the veggies and whatever other perishables we have in the fridge before leaving on Monday.

Once we come back from Los Angeles, my work schedule goes back to normal and I'll have a week before classes start to re-acclimate myself to normal life. I'm looking forward to it.

ring of fire.

I've lost track of my eating habits. And there has been minimal physical activity. I haven't even walked the dogs... eeek.

But I have noticed that my appetite has shrunk. At least I get fuller faster and stay that way longer. I eat 2-4 times a day, but small portions/single servings and I don't munch in between sittings.

I'd love to squeeze in Pilates tonight, and considering my current social settings, I might actually be able to make that happen. Boyfriend got me a new dvd for Christmas that I've been dying to try out.

Las Vegas is 8 days away and I am itching to get back home so I can hit the gym hard. I miss pounding out three miles and feeling on top of the world, I could use some more of that in my life right about meow. I have a limited food selection and limited funds, so when I return on Tuesday I'm going to buy essentials (milk and celery) and vow to myself that I will not eat out again until we land in Las Vegas. I know we have plenty nutritious stuff in the pantry, just not anything processed or readily edible.

I don't have a goal for Vegas, I just want to make the most of my time before we leave. It's the holidays, I deserve a little fun :)

Merry Christmas.

hot mess.

There were two problems with this weekend/week:
1. Booze.
2. No Diamox.

My food choices weren't the best, but the good thing about having takeout is that you're limited in food quantity, so that McDonald's chicken sandwich I had was only one chicken sandwich. Could be worse.

At best, I was inconsistent in taking Diamox since last Friday. In reality, the truth is probably closer to "I didn't take it at all." Tuesday morning after realizing my hangover was gone I restarted my pill routine. My booze bloat, at its worst, made the scale read 274. During finals week I had reached a low of 267.5 (although I never bothered to post about it because I was almost certain I was not eating/hydrating properly, so seeing 274 again made me panic. I started Diamox again, and a day later I weighed in at 271. Much better.

Today, after my morning bathroom habit, the scale is back to 269. I can attribute it almost entirely to the Diamox because I haven't worked out since Sunday, and I have eaten my fair share of good foods and bad foods alike this week.

So even though I've been at this weight for over a week, no progress is THE BEST progress because I survived finals week, an entire weekend of Christmas parties and binge drinking, and another week of eating out and my weight is staying steady.

This is the point where I congratulate myself: CONGRATULATIONS. You survived the worst part of Christmas.

Now, if only I can accomplish the same in Vegas...

it's christmas eve and i've only wrapped two fkn presents.

I ate two fun sized Butterfinger bars and then I saw a photo of Celine Dion in a mini dress and I immediately regretted both candies. Fuck.

I had a short workout late on Wednesday night, and 3 miles on Sunday afternoon.

In the five days since my last post, my eating habits have gone to shit. Absolute shit.

I also had two nights of very heavy drinking.

I did the mistake of weighing myself and it was not good. I'm praying that some of that is bloat from all the booze drinking and the subsequent water drinking. I have also been really sloppy about taking Diamox which I know has compounded the situation.

The holidays are so absolutely overwhelming. But my skinny pants still fit so I guess it could have been worse.

I can't wait until things simmer down long enough for me to get back to some degree of normalcy. I haven't cooked in weeks, and my body is hurting from not working out.



Today I called Mirage to see about updating our reservations to include a new promotion that they've been advertising. We originally booked using a promo code for 15% off, but today I found a different promo code for a $75 dining credit. The lovely gentleman who took my call sent over a new confirmation email that clearly states that the $22.40 daily resort fee includes use of the cardio room next to the Mirage pool. JACKPOT.

Now, to put the pieces back together before I gain all the weight back.

For the third day in a row, I have weighed myself. And for the third day in a row, the scale reads 269. I am beyond thrilled.

I was thinking about listing all the ways I have been bad this week, to include all the foods I've eaten (like pizza and nachos) that don't conform to the idea of "dieting." I was going to express my guilt for my noticeable absence at the gym this week, claim responsibility for my horrible sleeping habits, and chastise myself for being such a bad student this semester.

And then, I read this. I've been a secret admirer of LVP for a few months now, mostly to gaze at the foods that I will probably never have the nerve to make (or even eat). The recipes, the NYC nightlife, and sharing thoughts with another post-bacc student are so indulgent that I look forward to reading every day, but in all honesty I find it hard to implement much of this into my personal lifestyle. But today... today's post spoke to me.

I've been thinking for a while now that it was probably really stupid to start my diet plan in October because I've had to face the challenge of navigating weight loss through my birthday, my entire family's birthdays, Thanksgiving, finals week, Christmas, New Years, and my winter vacations (yes, plural... because I like making things difficult on myself).

My birthday was a huge setback because I had only been exercising for a week and I hadn't yet figured out portion control, and of course I celebrated with a meal at HuHot (unlimited, no less). Thanksgiving felt so out of control because I didn't know how to incorporate exercise away from home; finals week is turning out to be a shit show. And now with tomorrow's and Sunday's Christmas parties looming, I just don't know what to do.

But the point remains: it's the holidays, it's the most wonderful time of the year! I have been blessed with two families, one to share Hanukkah with and the other that celebrates Christmas. In the spirit of giving and the tradition of the festival of lights, I must remember to be thankful and learn to relinquish my anxieties surrounding the opulence of the season.

This weekend, I'm going to partake in heavy drinking. I'm going to have cookies and pie and delicious foods. If I have time to exercise, I will be thankful. If not, I will still be thankful.



Last night after work, I went down to the fitness center at midnight. I was all wound up and anxious and unfortunately my attention span only lasted the length of two miles. But I definitely got the most out of those two miles. Because of my sleeping mishap yesterday my meals got jumbled up, and at 1am I realized I was hungry. I'm sure my body thought it was dinner time, so I fixed a plate of nachos. I stayed up until 4am and I awoke at noon -- my body did NOT like waking up to a stomach full of nachos.

Can I just say... I am sooooo fucking happy that tonight is the last night of torture. I would like my life back.

sometimes it hurts instead.

I stayed up until 4am not studying... I had every intention to study, but boyfriend kept me company in the office and he's like my best friend which means I go no work done. He left at 2am, and for two hours I did... who knows. It was a colossal waste of time.

I set 3 alarms and I had boyfriend call me to make sure I would get up this morning. In my sleep, I had a fully formed argument why it would be better for me if I just slept all day. So I did exactly that. I stayed in bed until 2pm, at which point I decided to start getting ready for another long night at work.

Not only did I eat 2 pieces of pizza at stay up until 4am...
I slept until 2pm and skipped studying AND the gym..
... I also weighed myself.

I am all kinds of messed up today. I don't know what it is about finals week that makes me throw out all my structure and lose motivation.

If there's any good news in this story, it's that I still weigh 269. And I slept really well so I am well rested to get my power study on tonight. I also decided that I'm hitting the gym after work. Let's face it, if I'm going to be up until 2am anyhow, I might as well be exercising rather than conducting random Google searches.



I slept through lunch/breakfast so I was especially mindful of packing foods for work. I brought some vanilla yogurt, apple, pomegranate, orange, turkey sandwich on wheat with one slice of pepper jack, and a small ziplock of Doritos (it's just not finals without junk food), water and green tea. I got to work ravenous so I set to cubing an apple to throw into my yogurt. A man I know very well came into the lobby and watched me as I cut my apple and he said, "That's a lot of work for a small piece of fruit." Oh, if only he had seen me seed the pomegranate yesterday.

But it got me thinking: sure, it's true that I could have skipped the knife work and just taken a bite from the apple, but there's something SO SATISFYING about having your food exactly the way you want it. I love taking a spoon of yogurt and finding little nuggets of apple stuck in there to give me a wet, juicy crunch as I eat.

I love finding new ways to love food.

ok okay, I swear this is my last post today.

On June 16, I had lost 2 pounds from my initial weight of 292. At that point, I calculated my BMI to be 42.8.

Today, December 13, I have lost 23 pounds from my initial weight. I calculated my BMI at 39.7.

I found this on the HuffPost. The first few paragraphs might as well have been written by me (even down to the excessive use of parentheses)! I teared up a little knowing that someone else feels and thinks EXACTLY the same way that I do... and she succeeded in her weight loss journey.

I've been reading her running blog and it inspired me to take the plunge. I haven't signed up yet (cuz Vegas is making me broke and I'd rather save the money until after we return), but I fully intend to run the UIVA 5k on March 31. That gives me enough time to break in a new pair of shoes and learn how to work the pavement (let's be honest... machines have been spoiling me).

I have 114 days to learn how to run outside. I already know that my legs and heart can handle 3+ mile stretches, so it's just a matter of registering and doing it. DO IT.

thoughts on dieting.

Now that I'm a whole whopping 23 pounds lighter, more and more people are starting to notice the changes. I keep getting asked "how do you do it?" and the answer is: no extraordinary means.

I would like to make it abundantly clear, in case it wasn't before, that I AM NOT ON A DIET.

As far as exercising goes, I commit myself to 35 minutes of cardio EVERY SINGLE DAY (more if I'm feeling good, less if I really can't go longer). If I have a serious time crunch, I'll take one or two days off per week. But I almost always make up for it by doing an hour of Pilates at home. The point is, exercising has to be a constant part of my reality regardless of what weight I'm at.

But back to the food thing, that's the part that troubles people the most. Today, I was given leftover pizza at work and my coworker suggested that I eat the taco pizza instead of the all meat pizza because the taco has more veggies on it. I looked at her funny and told her, "as far as food goes, I eat whatever I want... as long as I go to the gym." And that, my friends, is the truth. I went with the taco pizza in the end because I just appealed to my tastes at the time, but under no circumstances would I consider the limp, warm lettuce on top to be a serving of vegetables. I had one slice of pizza for lunch and I plan to have another slice for dinner, and not once am I going to feel guilty about it.

Don't get me wrong, a person cannot survive off pizza alone. But pizza is what I have today and I'm feeling particularly indulgent, so pizza is on the menu. Before my workout today I ate an apple, just because I sounded yummy. Now, I am snacking on some vanilla yogurt and I tossed in the arils from a small pomegranate (currently on sale for $0.69 each). I'm not eating yogurt because I believe it to be healthy, I am eating yogurt because I find it delicious. And the pomegranate was a special treat to myself! Since they're such a seasonal item, I look forward to this time of year to partake in their blood-red seedy goodness.

I truly enjoy and crave apples and pomegranates and yogurt and green tea (I'm sipping on a cup now). I am NOT forcing myself to like them out of some misguided perception that I should eat them because they're healthy. It's also true that I love and crave things like pizza and milkshakes and pumpkin pie. And that's okay too! But when it comes to those foods, they feed my soul more than they feed my body.

Above all, I must constantly remind myself: NO EXTRAORDINARY MEANS. I am proud of the 23 pounds of progress I have made, and I'm looking forward to the next 23 pounds and everything after that. But this will be an ongoing, lifelong process that I must learn to love, because if I hope to have any success, I'll need to do this forever.

I don't take "forever" to be a life sentence. I think of it as a challenge.

i'm gonna be a supermodel.

I was laying in bed trying to decide if it was possible for me to cram before my final exam and have time to exercise. But to be honest, I wasn't really interested in exercising.

With it being finals week, I resigned myself to being in a time crunch and I accepted that I would have to sacrifice something. Sleep would not be on the chopping block. I finally convinced myself to leave the warm comfort of the bed to take care of my morning bathroom business... and to weigh myself. Just out of curiosity. I wasn't expecting any news.

Stepping on the scale TWICE just to confirm... 269.

I am jumping around ecstatically, enthused for my next workout (once I find my pants). SERIOUSLY?!?! The other day I was thinking it would be a long hard journey until I saw the 60s before Christmas.

To think that I am just ten pounds away from seeing the 50s... oh jesus. MAD EXCITED.


A vow to myself:

I never want to see my weight be 27X ever again. EVER. AGAIN.

You will not weigh yourself again before Friday, just to be sure this sticks.

You will be proud of yourself, and remember this day forever.

You will appreciate how momentous this is, knowing that you did the work ALL BY YOURSELF.

And lastly, you will enjoy the rewards of hard work! Starting with better heath! Better looks. And BETTER CLOTHES :)


I love me. I am amazing.

ask me what i'm thinking 'bout.

Weighed in at 271. I seriously don't know if I'm proud or disappointed.

Proud, because I went crazy at Red Lobster, and I was really lazy this weekend.

Disappointed, because I should have known better and worked harder.

Let's go with proud, because I would really like to come out of this weight loss thing with intact self-esteem.

Thursday was boyfriend's birthday (did I talk about this already?). I didn't work out, in fact we laid in bed all day. We had endless soup, salad, and chips at Chili's for lunch and then I made battered shrimp and smashed potatoes for dinner.

Friday I didn't have time to work out or even pack food for work. I ended up having 2/3 of a small pit stix and an orange for dinner.

Saturday we slept in late, I woke up and made quesadillas for lunch. I made a whole stack thinking I would eat two of them, but then boyfriend ate my share. I made another quesadilla for myself, half of which I gave to him because he was making starving puppy eyes at me. Truth be told, I'm happy those calories didn't end up on my ass, but neither of us really needed it to begin with.

I was feeling crummy and restless, and when boyfriend asked if I was going to the gym I took it as a suggestion and booked it out the door. It felt wonderful... cabin fever is a bitch. For dinner we celebrated boyfriend's birthday at Red Lobster, we had the parmesan crusted shrimp and crab dip, way too many cheddar biscuits, house salad, and the majority of my seaside shrimp trio.

Sunday we had breakfast burritos consisting of huevos con chorizo and potatoes. I should have stopped at one burrito, but I was so impressed that boyfriend made huevos con chorizo all by himself that I took an extra spoonful. Boyfriend set the crockpot for chile colorado and I just knew that I would have trouble controlling my urges, so we went to the gym together. I did three miles in 32:40, my first mile in 10:54. I was booking it AND IT FELT SOOOO GOOD. I set my playlist to a Britney Spears shuffle and got to work and I have to say... that shit is motivational.

I've been much more consistent with the Diamox, I don't know how it got so bad but I'm happy to say I'm back at the regular. It helps me more, I can feel it, plus I do like the water pill properties. After the bathroom this morning the scale was steady at 271. This is going to be a rough week with work being so different and finals and blah blah blah. Blah. That's how I feel about this week.

26X before Christmas. I CAN DO IT.

no sleep til brooklyn.

It's been almost exactly six months since I first came to see my ophthalmologist That first week was scary and crazy because there seemed to be a rush to get me treated ASAP (although, all my physicians did their best to hide the urgency from me... AND I APPRECIATE IT). Dr Thompson was never meant to be my primary specialist, I only needed confirmation from her before heading over to see a neurologist, so we never discussed things like treatment plans or anything long-term. It was just a hustle and bustle at the time trying to get me to the right specialist.

When I last saw Dr Thompson in June she didn't say anything about a follow-up, it was the ladies at Dr Stern's office that scheduled me for a 3 month check-up which was subsequently cancelled without any explanation to me. During my last visit with Dr Stern she informed me that I should be seeing Dr Thompson at least twice a year; this happened in November, exactly 5 months since my last ophthalmology appointment.

So today I had my second visit with Dr Thompson. Due to an alarm clock issue this morning I woke up late and opted for my glasses instead of contact lenses and they took advantage of that during my exam. There was the routine background questions, then a standard vision exam, then I received wretched eye numbing drops for a pressure test. After that I had the visual field exam, and they dilated my eyes. When I finally got to speak with Dr Thompson, she came into the exam room with this giant smile on her face. The results of my visual field exam came back, and I am happy to say that my blind spots are back to normal! It is SIGNIFICANT how much it has changed in the last six months, I almost wish I had copies of the visual field chart because I'm so proud. On top of that, the swelling in my right eye is 100% gone and the left eye has just a tiny bit, but the doc said it's nothing to worry about since I initially presented with worse swelling in the left. She says she expects it to go away with a few more months on the Diamox.

In addition to this wonderful, wonderful news, she also told me that I will only need to see her once a year from now on, and if things stay the same I won't have to do the visual field exam or have my eyes dilated. She said it was incredible how fast my eyes recovered and she wished me a Merry Christmas.

Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.



Yesterday was boyfriend's birthday, and coincidentally also my day off from work. I thought I would have the day to myself getting his dinner prepared and have time left to clean, study, groom, and exercise. Well, he played hookey which completely derailed my plans and I accomplished absolutely nothing from my to-do list.

I didn't workout yesterday, I didn't study, I didn't clean, hell... I didn't even shower. And the nice ass dinner I had planned... SCRAPPED. Boyfriend decided he wanted breaded shrimp which I haven't made in two years because it's a pain in the ass and because I really don't approve of having fried foods like, ever.

And today, I'm scrambling with the few hours I have before work to get shit done and there's no time to eat properly or shower or workout. It's times like this I kinda wish I was single.

Which begs the question... how do married people do it? I'd like to think of myself as an individual while simultaneously being one half of this romantic entity, but these ideas can be in conflict at times. So how does the individual-me tell the 1/2-me (and by extension, 1/2-boyfriend) that individual's needs are important too?

I'm having a time management issue that's being complicated by a prioritizing issue. FML.

8 things for Wednesday.

1. I don't like the idea of being "sick," and by that of course I'm referring to my chronic illness. I would do anything to be rid of this so I don't have to explain to people why I carry water bottles with me everywhere and the reason behind my aversion to carbonated and alcoholic beverages. And my anxiety about having to know EXACTLY where the bathroom is located everywhere I go (that's the worst).

2. No one tells you that losing weight makes you sleepy. They'll tell you that it's hard, that it's slow, that it takes time, that you have to keep at it, but no one fuckin' says that falling asleep at 7pm is perfectly normal when you're burning serious calories at the gym. I've exhausted Google search for answers and it's a wonder there aren't more hypochondriacs in this country because my inquiries into the source of my tiredness (note: NOT exhaustion) could very easily lead me to believe that I'm depressed, I have a thyroid condition and cancer... all at the same time.

3. I'm so tired today I don't even remember if I took my pills this morning. I think I did? I had the same problem yesterday... although I'm starting to believe that I accidentally doubled up on a dose yesterday which wasn't entirely a problem since I accidentally skipped the previous night's dose. But I definitely took my 3 pills last night, so if I already took 2 pills this morning then taking another 2 would send me over the edge and I really don't want that right now. What to do?

4. Boys are dumb.

5. To elaborate on #4 (yes, it needs to have TWO bullet points): seriously, what is wrong with men? I feel like I have an easier time communicating with my dog sometimes, it's always small words and simple instructions and even then I'm not sure the message is getting through.

6. Food affects me more than ever now. I actually kind of love it. This morning I wasn't hungry, but then when I did become hungry I reached for the cranberry juice instead. A cup of juice alone got me from from 6 to 9am, at which point I grabbed for the cereal. I was feeling a bit sluggish, so I had a banana and now I want to climb on everything. We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant last night for fajitas and I overindulged -- not stuffed, but I knew I should have stopped sooner than I did. It kept me up ALL NIGHT (and by that I mean 11pm, which is hella late for me). I finally get the concept of food=energy.

7. I couldn't shake the BLAH so I had a friend bring me hot chocolate at work, which made me realize that my friends are AWESOME. I will certainly be paying for that hot chocolate later at the gym, but for now I'm happy with the artificial feeling of warmness that I'm getting to experience from it.

8. There is no replacement for sleep. None. And I desperately need some right about meow.

FTN.

My momma always told me I was stubborn. If it was something I should do, I didn't do it. I'm not a team player, I don't like rules, I don't like being told what to do. If there's a way to outsmart, argue, fight, or trick my way out of something, I'll find it.

I have a bad habit of making things purposely (and sometimes unnecessarily) difficult for myself, most of the time just to prove a point. Even if you take me down kicking and screaming, I never lose a fight.

So I'm sure you can imagine how incredibly difficult it was for me to read this post. So now there's a creed, a vow to one's self to take it lying down. How thoroughly disappointing. Over my dead body will I allow myself to believe that this is a way of life. FTN.

If I'm going to have a bad day, it's because I MADE it a bad day. Because I ate badly or because I cheated myself on sleep or because I pushed myself too hard at work or at the gym. If it's going to be bad, I want to have a hand in it. The same goes with the good days. I can't possibly believe that "good" days are random gifts bestowed to us by faeries, or that "bad" days are a stroke of bad luck. It's good because I made it good, it's bad because I made it bad.

So my stupid brain condition, FTN. The side effects from my medication, FTN. Work, school, gym, personal drama... FTN. I, and I alone, decide how this plays out. Today's a good day, BECAUSE I SAID SO.

(FTN stands for "fuck that noise," in case you were wondering.)

tuesday newsday.

1. I came into work absolutely ravenous. Normally when I get that feeling, I would eat everything in sight. Today, I grabbed a few squares from my container of Life cereal and the RAWR-hunger-monster went away. I was SO HUNGRY I thought I was going to pass out, and now I'm struggling to finish the rest of my cereal. YAY!

2. I normally wait until Thursdays to weigh myself because it's my day off from work so I have the opportunity to sleep in and have a good BM before I hop on the scale (which is not always the case on days when I work). I've been hella curious and I just couldn't wait for Thursday, so I weighed myself before showering today. 271.5 is the good news for Tuesday :) Just a few days ago I was panicking that I wouldn't see 26X before Vegas, and now it's within reach! I think two pounds in the next week is totally reasonable and now I'm crazy motivated to get this done.

3. Yesterday at work some representatives from the new Jimmy John's stopped by to give us samples of their most popular subs. I was the only person here at the time so I took the stack for myself. It was pretty awesome packing my food this morning because all I had to do was grab one of the little packages from the fridge and add a side. It's the little things like that that make me happy.

4. With today's weigh-in, I can officially say that I have lost 20 pounds. To be more precise, it's TWENTY-POINT-FIVE! That being said, I have lost half the weight I gained since meeting my boyfriend. The last time I was at this weight was early 2010 and I am not sad to see it gone. I'm excited for the next twenty pounds, and everything after that! A friend posted some pictures on Facebook from the last tailgate a MONTH ago and I can already see the difference between then and now (ten pounds). I would like to see 267 by Christmas.

5. My appointment with Dr Thompson is set for Friday morning. I'm a little nervous only because I want things to go well. She's not in charge of my treatment, but I know that what she scribbles in my chart makes a huge different in terms of Dr Stern's plan, and I only have two months to make progress before seeing Dr Stern again. I can do this... I can do this.

6. Dinner last night was chicken and broccoli stirfry. It's one of boyfriend's favorite dishes so I try to limit the chicken and stuff as much veggies in the wok as possible. It's not inherently unhealthy, but we serve it with white rice and that's where things get carried away.

For today:
Life cereal, skim, banana.
Jimmy John's sample sandwich, celery and carrots.
Vanilla yogurt, apple, orange for snacks.

something kinda funny (28 days).

Exactly four weeks until Vegas. I am crazy, CRAZY excited.

We couldn't watch the Steelers game at home because it wasn't airing on any of the channels we get, so I met boyfriend at Buffalo Wild Wings for lunch. I showed up late and starving, so I ordered a dozen traditional wings and I took nibbles from boyfriend's nachos. I never felt stuffed, but I knew I had overeaten.

I felt gross and lazy and it caused me to take an unnecessary nap for two hours. When it came to be dinner time, I was nowhere close to hungry so we pushed back the cooking. When we did finally decide to eat it was a lighter dinner consisting of brats and fries. I still felt gross and groggy so at 10pm I went to the gym expecting some relief.

Almost immediately after starting on the elliptical I felt this tightness in my chest that would not go away for the entire 35 minutes I spent on the machine. Between that and increasing to resistance level 3, I allowed myself to carry at a slower than usual pace (56-60 RPM) and even then I couldn't catch my breath. At most my heart rate was at 147 (actually, spent most of the time closer to 140) but I just couldn't seem to get any rhythm to my huffing and puffing. Once I got off the machine there was a horrible stitch in my side that didn't leave for a good ten minutes and I felt generally woozy.

Most of the mucus from my head cold has traveled to my chest, leaving me with this dry cough that highlights my temporarily diminished lung capacity. I seriously hope this doesn't last long because I'm almost certain I shouldn't be exercising like this.



In other worldly news:

We finally went grocery shopping this weekend. We got a ton of goodies that make me excited about cooking and putting meals together.

Today I brought:
Vanilla almond crunch cereal, 1 banana, 1 cup skim.
Turkey and smoked pepperjack on 100% whole wheat, side of carrots
Apple and orange and loads of water.

I'm struggling to finish my cereal and I haven't even touched my banana. I also haven't had a proper poop in days, I wonder if it's related?

it's the best time of the year.

I had an entire Milio's sub sandwich for lunch/dinner on Friday. I felt really bad about it coming off of such a great workout. I thought for sure it was going to do bad things on the scale.

Saturday morning after my morning bathroom habit, I stepped on the scale: 273! I wasn't sure if it was a fluke so I decided to keep it under wraps, but today the scale said the same thing (despite a Rice Krispy Treat binge)!

I feel like I haven't been the best about eating, but then I wonder if that's just me being too hard on myself. I can't really tell either way.

I couldn't sleep last night so I did an hour of Pilates. It's been almost two weeks and it felt amazingly good. I still wasn't tired after that, so I dug up an old book I kept from my Pilates class in college for some light reading. My DVD skips/replaces a lot of the moves I had come to hate from my college class, but there they were, staring me straight in the face from the pages of the book. Most of the moves are never/far far far away, but I definitely intend to start incorporating the Teaser, at least for benchmarking purposes.

So there we have it, folks. 273 and rockin' it.

il y a des problems.

#1. I did 4 miles on the elliptical today. I wanted to go for 5, but I was short on time. My 4 mile workout was way too easy, and this is why:

#2. My cold is subsiding. I brought a box of tissues on the machine again and I only had to blow my nose three times in 45 minutes. This is wonderful news.

#3. My workout is becoming too easy. If it hadn't been for work, I would have done a full hour. The last time this happened, I realized I needed to step it up a level in resistance. So for my last half mile, I worked at level 3.

#4. Level 3 is a tad more challenging, but I hardly noticed since I only did half a mile at that resistance. Goal for the week: level 3 until Sunday, level 4 on Monday.

#5. Last time we went to Las Vegas we stayed at MGM Grand. I wasn't into exercising then so I only glossed over the information regarding the fitness room, but I distinctly remember that access for registered guests was free. This next trip, we're staying at Mirage. Now that I do care about exercising, I find out that this hotel charges $25 a day for registered guests. Yeah... fuck that. If we hadn't already planned our entire trip, I might have insisted we change our reservations. But thankfully we won't be in Vegas long so I'm just going to hope that walking on The Strip will provide enough exercise until we get to Los Angeles, where our hotel DOES include free use of the fitness center.

#6. Took 500mg of Diamox at 2pm. I can't say I can tell that anything is different, but I'm sure I'll have something to say about it after taking the 750mg dose later tonight.

owner of a lonely heart (31 days).

We have exactly ONE MONTH until we land in sunny Las Vegas, NV. In fact, thirty-one days from this very moment, I'll be sitting on a plane with ants in my pants. Where did the time go?

The significance of today is obvious: it's been weeks since I've lost any weight... granted, that did include Thanksgiving and a really nasty cold so it's easy to see how self-indulgence may have played a role in this conundrum. This means that in the next 31 days, I have to step it up to stay on schedule to reach my goal.

My goal? Thanks for asking. I've decided I'm tired of the 270s. So my official goal for the next 31 days is to have my weight read 26X. Don't really care what the X is. 9 is acceptable, 5 would be great.

It's much easier managing weight loss in terms of tens. 10% total body weight loss is a good long term goal (it was 29 lbs when I started... 17 of which I have already lost). 10 pounds breaks things up into convenient little steps so I'm not overwhelmed thinking about exactly how much I really have to lose in the long run.

Thinking ahead a little further, I want to see 25X for my next appointment with Dr Stern in February. I think two months is plenty of time, non?



Notes on life:

I haven't taken Diamox in days. My last dose was 500mg early on Wednesday morning. It was a mix of conscious efforts and just plain losing my mind. I was having a really hard time staying hydrated, so for my health I thought it best to ditch the diuretic. No worries, I'm starting again today.

Yesterday I was feeling especially shitty. I had the day off from work so I parked myself on the couch with two blankets and the first Harry Potter book and napped between chapters. Nothing was helping to improve my sense of well being, so I had the genius idea to go hot tubbing! I did 2 miles on the elliptical first (the time goes by so fast when you're chatting with a friend!) and then I jumped in the hot tub for some serious body rejuvenation. It seemed to be EXACTLY what I needed.

Today I'm feeling better, I definitely slept better and my stuffy nose is not-so-stuffy anymore. Knock on wood, I hope this is the end of it. Goal for today: 4 miles on the elliptical (NOT time dependent). I just want to see myself do it.

31 days til Vegas, 34 days til L.A.

j'ai un rhume.

In my high school French class we learned how to say things like "I have headache" and "I twisted my ankle." I thought it was silly we learned it at all.

...Until I spent a summer in France, when I really did have a headache and I really did twist my ankle. J'ai mal à tête et je me suis foulée la cheville. It was a pretty horrible day in what was supposed to be an awesome summer vacation. Since then, I haven't had many opportunities to flash my vocabulary for things like heartburn and broken bones. Mais aujourd'hui, j'ai un rhume. I have a cold.


Last night after work I went to the gym, I managed three miles in 32 minutes. I pushed myself really hard and it was entirely worth it. I was already experiencing the beginning of cold symptoms so I took a brand new box of Kleenex with me and balanced it on a small ledge under the stats monitor on my elliptical machine. I never thought I would be so hardcore to be tending a runny nose while working out without breaking my stride. HARDCORE.

We still haven't gone grocery shopping so food for work was slim pickings yet again. Yesterday I had a bowl of Life with skim, banana, pbj on a kaiser roll, and I pecked at dried cranberries. I had 20 ounces of masala chai, and 2x 20 ounces of green tea with natural sugar to help with the sore throat. For dinner, boyfriend and I went out for half priced pizza, I had four small squares of buffalo chicken pizza and a tall glass of water, no ice. As I was eating I contemplated stopping at three pieces of pizza but I went for the fourth and I'm actually glad I did. This whole weight loss thing (or, more accurately, successfully losing weight) is uncharted territory so I'm not entirely sure where the line is between indulging/healthy eating/caloric restriction/deliberate starvation. In hindsight, I can see that my grocery situation has caused me to eat less during the day and my body is trying to compensate by becoming hungrier at night. I really like the idea of having a small, light dinner, but if my body is saying FEED ME I had best listen. The trick is knowing the difference between want and need.

After dinner I intended to do an hour of Pilates, but boyfriend is still insisting on keeping the heater in our apartment OFF so for now I'm living in 60 degree hell. I crawled under the blankets thinking I would warm up a bit and then do Pilates, but instead I realized I had a pounding headache (emphasis on POUNDING). I took 1000mg of Tylenol and drank a ton of water and hoped that it wouldn't last more than half an hour. Instead of feeling better, the headache disappeared and new symptoms appeared: despite being under two heavy blankets, I was deathly cold. Between the runny nose, the headache, the chills, the terribly sore throat, dry mouth, sneezing, the emergence of the head to toe body ache sent me over the edge. I gave up on functioning and passed out at 8:30pm.

At midnight I woke up feeling worse than before; I stood staring at the innards of the medicine cabinet trying to decide between NyQuil and DayQuil. Since I had to work at 6am, DayQuil won on the side of caution. It must have worked because I didn't wake once to blow my nose, or reapply lip balm or VapoRub, or even take a drink of water, despite having all these items within arm's reach on my night stand (a hilarious menagerie amongst my bears). It worked so well, I slept through my alarm and woke up at 6:07... a full 40 minutes late. I still felt like death but at this point it was too late to call work to find a replacement, so I sucked it up and braved the cold.

The grocery situation is dire. But today, it worked in my favor. I brought plain oats for breakfast... I made 1 cup of dry oats with 1 cup of water and stirred in some natural sugar. I got full with 3/4 of the bowl, so for next time I know to only make 3/4 cup of oats. I stirred in a banana and took 500mg of Diamox (I skipped the 750mg dose last night because the blood in my mucus was starting to worry me). I've had 16oz orange juice, 8 ounces of green tea (plenty more to come, today is going to be a looooong day), I took two more DayQuil gel caps, I have Chloraspetic spray on standby, I'm well equipped to suffer this cold publicly at work.

For lunch, I brought a package of chicken flavored ramen. I am so seriously looking forward to this because ramen is not something I eat often (correction: ever) unless I'm sick, and it ALWAYS makes me feel better. Boyfriend introduced me to the art of mixing Sriracha into a steaming hot bowl of ramen to clear the sinuses and soothe the throat... just thinking about it makes me wish it was lunch time. The best part of this meal is the broth, the noodles are secondary and I don't usually finish them out of preference.

Goals for today:
- I WILL stay hydrated
- I WILL go to the gym
- I WILL go grocery shopping
- I WILL conquer this cold
- I WILL do Pilates tonight
- I WILL buy a Christmas tree this afternoon.

I love the challenge of feeding myself well when there's little food left in the fridge; I love the challenge of managing a cold without letting it get me down; I love the feeling of accomplishment I get from achieving my daily goals and I love having little incentives like Christmas decorations to keep me from getting lost in the seriousness of it all.

TODAY IS GOING TO ROCK.

cape cod (my heart's a stereo).

I failed to mention in my post yesterday just how much it chapped my ass not being able to tolerate boozing as much over the holiday.

I miss binge drinking. Fo' real.

Today's post is brought to you by the letter C: colds, cranberry, and getting wasted (yes, I realize the last one doesn't even contain the letter C... fuck it).


But firstly... I made a triumphant return to the gym last night -- only to find that a couple had already occupied the machines that my workout buddy and I had planned to use. So we watched them work out on the closed circuit video system until they left... giant waste of an hour of my life. This is the downside of using the small free fitness center at a hotel... but it's where I work and it's FREE so I have a really hard time justifying a gym membership. Once we had the room to ourselves, I realized what a terribly late start it was and I just knew it would be bad news. Sure enough, at 1.5 miles my boyfriend called asking to be picked up from work. I made him wait until I finished 2 miles (22:30) before I left to collect him.

Sad, sad realizations from yesterday: taking almost a week off from exercising = BAD NEWS BEARS.

It felt amazing having my lungs burn (I am seriously in love with that feeling), but my posture was off and I couldn't find good foot position and it threw off my stance. But the good news bears brought me a little present: speeds upwards of 70 RPMs! I was trotting away at 64-65 RPM thinking that I was not getting the workout I had expected, so I dropped my butt a few inches and took a squat placing more emphasis on my upper legs and the 70s were rolling in like nobody's business. I was maintaining 73-75 consistently for short little bursts, usually just a minute or two, but enough to make me feel like I was flying.

Goal for this week: get to a consistent 70 RPM, increase to Level 3 resistance.

Now, onto the letter C:

Cold: I hate this weather. Even worser, I hate being sick. Being rudely thrust back into adulthood yesterday left me with zero energy after dinner. I had every intention of doing an hour of Pilates, but between the 3 hours of sleep I got on Sunday, the full day of work, working out, and cooking, I had nothing left to give and I passed out on the couch at 7pm. I woke up at 10pm with a tickle in my throat so I took a lozenge and drank some water and everything seemed fine. When I woke up this morning at 5:30am, I knew I was in trouble.

My throat hurts and I am congested, thus officially kicking off the start of cold season. FML. I'm afraid I'm going to overdose on benzocaine so I had to lay off on the Cepacol, but on the plus side I've upped my intake of fluids in the form of green tea, which I'm sure is plenty good for me. So yay? Fuck you, cold, for making me... healthy?

Cranberry: I read somewhere that cranberry juice helps increase bicarbonate levels (if only in minute amounts) so naturally I considered buying stock in Ocean Spray avant de commencer my new cranberry regimen. I haven't actually gotten around to buying any cranberry juice, but I've been pecking away at a 5 pound bag of dried cranberries over the last few days. I was foolishly hoping that the internet would give me more insight as to the benefits of cranberries while on Diamox, but sadly I am coming up empty. I have a well documented distaste for pills of all varieties and if I can manage life without vitamins and supplements and opt for the natural route, I'd much prefer it. Even if I go broke buying bananas and cranberries and tea.

Crap I can't get wasted anymore (BAHAHAHAHA, I made it work): I have had limited experience with booze since starting Diamox (Almost 6 months now... holy Jesus) so I don't have much to go off of, but I can tell you with certainty that the little drinking I have done makes me feel like shit. Beer tastes gross, so that's out of the picture. I tried taking the cranberry route and having vodka cranberry cocktails, but the last time I did that I got three drinks in before I felt like I had been run over by a truck. I don't drink any sodas anymore, cider tastes like piss, beer makes me piss, and spirits are killing me. Quelle dommage, I say. But in the spirit of the holidays, I feel obliged to drink (and by that I mean, I WANT TO DRINK). And with the realization that Las Vegas is less than FIVE WEEKS away (34 days in case you're counting) and the wedding festivities following shortly after that, I am desperate for a solution to my boozing problem. The last trip I took to Vegas was shortly after I started taking Diamox, so I simply opted to postpone starting the meds until after my vacation was over. Dr Stern didn't have any outward reaction in any direction to that news so it didn't seem like much of an issue. But now after six months of almost perfect compliance, I struggle with even the idea of not taking my meds. The simple solution would be the one I had before: skip the meds in Vegas, drink to your heart's content. But I'm afraid my dosage is so high that I should consider tapering the dose down first rather than go cold turkey. I also worry that when I do return to normal dosage, the dreaded symptoms will return.

I've been on the fence about calling Dr Stern on the issue because I know that there is no easy answer. Plus, we've already talked about it and she basically told me it's okay to drink as long as I feel comfortable. I guess I just want her blessing to stop the Diamox for a week? Plain weird.

fuck you, cyber monday.

Despite having spent well over $100 at Sam's Club for groceries yesterday, there was slim pickings when it came to packing food for work aujourd'hui. But first, let's rewind:

Thanksgiving was a shit show. Lots of turkey and gravy and rolls (not even wheat, just plain white), and PIE. Bloody fucking pie. I can't ever say no to pumpkin pie with a generous heaping of whipped cream. The closest thing I got to fruit all weekend was cranberry from a can, and in the four days I was at home I managed to convince myself that mashed potatoes count for veggies.

WRECK.

I haven't weighed myself, but my boyfriend says that I didn't really eat that much. I feel like I did, but in retrospect there wasn't ever a time when I felt stuffed so maybe I really did succeed in skirting my appetite.

Hokay, so. Today for breakfast I had a bowl of Life cereal with 1 cup of skim milk and a banana to go with the Diamox. I had 20 ounces of homemade masala chai with a splash of skim and a dash of real sugar. For lunch I had a pbj sandwich on wheat, 1 cup of frozen blueberries, and I'm trying to convince myself to eat the dried cranberries I packed although that's proving to be quite a challenge.

I desperately wanted some celery, but that's just not in the cards until I can get to the grocery store later today. I'm probably dehydrated too, which was a very rude thing to have to realize at 3am when I was dead asleep. I feel like my digestive system is backed up because I've been doing things so out of the ordinary and there doesn't seem to be much room left for water.

I haven't worked out since last Tuesday. I am seriously, lustingly, desperately looking forward to pounding out all my frustrations on the elliptical in a few hours. CAN'T COME SOON ENOUGH.



In other worldly news, I organized my closet last night! My family is trying something different for Christmas gifts this year and mommy let me use her credit card to pick my gifts myself. I couldn't resist Old Navy's Black Friday deals so I had a field day ordering new winter clothes. When I got back into town last night, I took to unpacking which inspired me to reorganize my closet in anticipation for my shipment of new clothes (in reality, I ran out of hangers and I had to make more room). Long story short, I spent the better part of the evening rediscovering my wardrobe.

It was bittersweet getting to see what I had grown out of taste-wise and width-wise. My exceptionally good memory makes it almost impossible for me to forget details such as where I bought a piece of clothing, how much it cost, who was with me when I got it, and the like. I struggled tossing out the things that my mom bought for me, I had no problems parting ways with the things gifted to me by my sister, and there were a few problem items in between.

What do you do with the sweater you lost your virginity in? Especially if your current boyfriend wasn't the one (ha). And the first date dresses? How about the pants you wore to your friend's funeral? The shirt you pitched a fit over because you just HAD TO have it, even at full price... what if it's horribly out of style now, but you know your parents sacrificed a week of their financial comfort in order to buy the things you just had to have?

Tough decisions, all around.

The hardest part of this exercise was two-fold: firstly, seeing all the cute clothes that I USED to fit into that are indeed very much still cute and very much not going to fit over my now-heavier frame; and secondly, the panties.

I've been hoarding clothes over the last three years while operating under the delusion that I'll lose the weight next week, errr... month. At first it was five pounds and I swore to myself I would eat good the next week; then it was ten pounds and I swore to myself I would start running; at twenty pounds I swore to myself I would join a gym once I had the money; before I knew it, I was at 50 and at that point I had already learned to manage with what I had. But in the back of my mind, I was still going to start eating better and go jogging and join a gym... next week. So there was never any need to throw out the clothes that didn't fit, because I was going to start losing weight... next week. Now I have a wardrobe that consists of a series of stages: things I wore at 220 pounds, hazy crossover area, then 240-255, hazy crossover area, then 270-297 pounds. Obviously, I'm in the last stage which is coincidentally the smallest (and saddest).

When going through each item in my closet, there were the things I would never wear again that got donated, the things I wished I could wear but don't fit that got pushed to the back until a skinnier time, the things that fit now but I don't especially like that are taking up room in the middle for the days that I'm low on fresh laundry, and my favorite items that fit now got the prime real estate in the front. That was all well and good, I was always aware of what percentage of my wardrobe was in operation, but it certainly did me some good to remember how great I looked in that sweater that's two sizes smaller than what I wear now.

And then the panty drawer came out to play. Up until this point, I had been conducting myself alone in silence with the bedroom door closed. I think my boyfriend has panty sensors because he walked in just as I started sorting my intimates. I made several piles as I sorted and folded, but it was mainly divisive between panties I can wear now and panties I hope to wear soon. Of course, boyfriend was mesmerized by the hope-to-wear category. "OOH you should wear those, OOH you should wear those...!" Naturally, it was heartbreaking to have to remind him (and myself) that I'm still carrying too much weight for the hope-to-wear category to be a viable option anytime soon.

But I'm hopeful and excited to rediscover the awesomeness waiting for my in my closet! It's better than shopping, because this stuff is already paid for. Not to mention, it'll be like having TWO wardrobes because the stuff I wear now will certainly still fit (maybe with modifications) in the future to mix and match in ways I never dreamed possible.

If nothing else, I at least have a really clean closet now. A bientôt.

so yesterday...

Something came up at work and I had to go in early, which seriously cut into my gym time. I had barely enough time to squeeze in a mile (I could have done two but that would have really pushed the time into "unacceptably late"). Lately I've been going for three miles, which has been consistently less than 35 minutes, averaging to somewhere around 11:35-11:40 per mile. Numbers like this make me very very happy since I first started at well over 15:00 per mile.

I remember breaking 15 minutes and feeling on top of the world. I remember breaking 13 and thinking "holy shit, this is really happening."

Yesterday, I broke 11. I did a mile in 10:55 to be exact. I would have kept on going if it wasn't for my work commitments, in fact I'm a tad angry that I didn't have the time because my past history has shown that my first mile is always the slowest.

I almost don't believe it's happening. I don't exactly feel different. I don't look different. I guess if you press me on the issue, I'll admit that my clothes fit nicer but I'm not in a rush to replace my wardrobe. Nothing is hanging or falling off or giving me any indication that big changes have been made.

It's the tiny little things that I notice that put a smile on my face. Like this:

To make up for my disappointingly short workout yesterday, I did an hour of Pilates last night. Conditioning has taught me to hate The Hundred, and rightly so. It's usually one hundred seconds of me begging my body not to poop, and it ends by praising Baby Jesus and swearing I'll never eat another dessert ever again. As if The Hundred isn't torture enough, the fucking Roll-Up comes immediately after. Really, Baby Jesus?! COME ON! But yesterday... yesterday was different. I didn't mind The Hundred so much; in fact, I took the opportunity to admire the changes in my legs (okay, I'll admit, gravity was doing me some favors). And when it came to the Roll-Up, I was surprised at how much it didn't suck. Scratch that, IT WAS GREAT. I haven't done Roll-Ups this good since I took that Pilates class back in college, and I'm talking about the END of the semester.

On a sad note, my Swan variation has suffered considerably since I started. I had always wondered why that exercise was placed in that particular spot in the routine because it was the easiest (and therefore my favorite) and it seemed out of place. But my Swan sucked last night. And the Bridging/Hamstring Stretch combo FINALLY makes sense. I don't think I was doing it wrong before, I was just breaking through the fat to get to unused muscle and now that I've found it I can say I'm getting a workout.

My Quadruped and Crisscross need a lot of work, but I'm happy I have a routine that can grow with me. I like the changes I see. 274.5



PS - the late night pharmacist guy is a giant dick... which is probably why he only works nights. But seriously dude, you spent six measly years in college and you've been getting paid at least $100k each and every year since then to stand at a counter and play chemistry. It's not even REAL chemistry. You count pills and tell people not to mix their meds, and for three months out of the year you have to inject the elderly with the flu. SO FUCKIN WHAT. No need to be a miserable bastard, you dickbag.

what the fuck, diamox.

Honey mustard with my chicken tenders dinner is tearing up my face. WTF.

set fire to the rain.

I didn't workout Thursday (that's a lie, I did an hour of Pilates) or Friday, or today.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I went totally menstrual and I ate everrrrything. Between not exercising, and the poor food choices, and the bloat, I was expecting bad news from the scale. As of this afternoon: staying steady at 274.5.

The reason I mention this at all is so I can calm my internal panic mechanism that has been going CRAZY thinking that if I don't workout ONE DAY I'll gain 100 pounds. Or if I eat five McDonald's fries, it's going to undo the last two months.

I literally counted out 5 fries. Tant pis pour moi.

The truth is, I miss working out. I wish I had more time for it this weekend. But the stresses of my life reached critical mass and I had to make some sacrifices, and since sleep, work, and school are absolute necessities I was left with few trimmings.

I was so crunched for time yesterday, I forgot to stay hydrated. At the end of the day, I had a tingling in my face and hands that was so bad I thought I was going crazy. While waiting for my friendly Walgreens pharmacist to refill my scrip the tingling migrated to my feet and I would have paid a stranger to cut off my hands and feet just to end the pain.


Lessons learned from this weekend:
1. It's okay not to exercise every day. The world isn't ending, JUST DON'T MAKE IT A HABIT.
2. Five McDonald's fries are alright. Eight is probably okay too.
3. Water is your friend. It's calm and patient, it will be there whenever you need it. Let's be honest, you will ALWAYS need it.
4. Life on Diamox is better if you stay consistent! Two in the morning, three at night. No cheating! Because let's be real, IT'S TOTALLY WORTH IT when your neurologist says your eyes look "almost perfect."
5. Shit is going to hit the fan. And you just have to roll with it.

on the one hand.

I haven't received a phone call regarding my blood work, which leads me to believe that my results came back normal and I should expect a letter in the mail in a week instructing me to continue at my current dose like normal. Very impersonal, bien sûr.

I don't know how I've done it. This is (according to my calculations) the end of week 6. I seriously thought I had been doing this longer... in which case: OH. MY. GOD.

It's been so easy and I feel so stupid for not figuring it out sooner. But at the same time it's been quite a journey and I don't know how I've survived this long. It's been 5 months and 4 days since my diagnosis.

Today I stepped on the scale... 275.5. After a trip to the bathroom... 274.5. I'm going to average the two and go for an even 275. :)

This is the first time since the beginning of this month that it's gone below 277, and I know that this one is going to stick.

I seriously cannot believe I'm doing this. I'm also insanely proud of myself, and even more excited to get my sexy on in the STACK of VS panties that came for me in the mail today.

!!!!!!!!

I look. SO. good.

when you're gone i'll still be bloody mary.

I'm getting really mad. REALLY MAD.

I wish there weren't so many complainers out there;
I wish fewer people would fight their doctors every step of the way;
I wish people would just give things a chance before interjecting with their non-medical opinions;

I get it: pain makes for great art (or at least a great blog, anyway). The amount of interest for a horror story increases tenfold over the interest for a happy ending. There is only a certain number of ways to say "congratulations" or "that's amazing," but a million ways to criticize.

It never occurred to me to ask my doctor if she was interested in handling an IIH case, but at the same time I never got the feeling like I was boring or troubling her. We're following a trial and error method; it's far from being an exact science, but there's a very clear understanding on both our parts that no one knows that much about IIH.

I had my fifth basic metabolic blood panel done yesterday. I found out that each one costs $200 before insurance. Thank god for insurance. I love that my doc makes me have labs done every time I see her, and sometimes even when I don't see her: yesterday marks the second time I've had to have labs done independent of a neuro appointment. But aside from her keeping an eye on my electrolytes and blood gasses, it's also my responsibility to eat right to keep my sodium from skyrocketing and my potassium from tanking. It's ridonculous how many bananas I eat.

To round things out, here are some notes on life:

1. Diamox is going swimmingly. The first ten days at the new dose were a bitch, and now I'm fine. From time to time, I get lazy about drinking water and I'll wake up mid-sleep with a nasty tingle in my foot (always the right foot) but it's nothing 30 ounces of water can't ride me of.

2. I work out EVERY DAY (no exaggerations). Even on the days I give myself permission to take off to rest (like Sunday and Monday, I wanted to avoid aggravating my foot problem), I still manage to exercise. Both says I told myself it would be okay to stay home, and both days I just felt better suffering it out at the gym. Sunday was particularly bad, so I only accomplished 2 miles on the elliptical but I added an hour of Pilates at home.

3. Working out is not enough. And by that I mean two things:

A) I thought I was going to lose all this weight by pounding it out on the elliptical. Seven weeks in, things are slightly stagnant. So in addition to my daily gym habit, I am now aiming to do an hour of Pilates four times a week. Maybe five. Let's see how my abs hold up, first. So far I've done it twice this week and I'm sublimely happy to be back at it -- I MISSED IT.

B) Food, stupid fucking food.

4. To elaborate on 3B: I HAD TO get use to the feeling of being hungry. It's not fun or comfortable. I'm cranky most of the time. But between the Diamox and working out, I've had an easier time than ever learning how to rock the single serving. I cook the same as before, I buy all the same foods as before, almost nothing has changed. The only difference now is that I eat less, and it's doing WONDERS.

Firstly, when I cook, it's in the same quantities that I'm used to. Instead of restricting the amount of food that's around, I HAD TO HAD TO HAD TO get comfortable with being around a bounty of food without feeling the need to eat it all. I NEVER want to feel deprived. That being said, I cook the same as before. When I eat less, my boyfriend tends to eat less (I think it's making him self conscious and he feels guilty), and with the both of us eating less that means we have more for leftovers! I don't do much with leftover meals, but my boyfriend loves taking them to school with him and it saves him the money from having to go out to eat. JEANS SHOULD BE SKINNY, WALLETS SHOULD BE FAT. Duh.

5. I never see people talking in specifics, so here it goes:

A) I do 35-60 minutes on the elliptical 5-7 times a week. Most of the time I go for 45 minutes, during which time I can accomplish 4 miles, burn around 700 calories, and my heart rate hovers somewhere between 150-155. Recently, I've had to scale back due to a foot problem. For the last week I've been doing 36 minutes, 3 miles, 530 calories, heart rate at around 147. This will change since I just bought new shoes.

B) My first and only goal when I started working out was to make it routine, weight loss was at the back of my mind. I figured the first step to getting in shape was to get to the gym. I LITERALLY mean GET TO THE GYM. I added a few incentives along the way, and now I can't go to the gym without them:

I invested in some compression pants from Old Navy. They're not Lululemon by any means, but they keep the jiggles in check and prevent chafing and wick away the inevitable moisture. I've designated these pants FOR GYM ONLY so if I'm wearing them, I had best be on my way to work out. Also in my wardrobe are racerback tanks, I like the ones with built-in bras, sports bras, a short sleeve full zipper hoodie, iPod Nano 6th gen (EVERYONE needs at least 5 good playlists), sweat towels, foldable water bottles (I bring 3 with me to the gym and I keep more scattered around my apartment and in my purse), and THE SHOES.

I recently purchased the Adidas adiPURE barefoot trainer shoes in black/pink. I had contemplated the Vibram Five Fingers a few years back but they just didn't speak to my needs. But the adiPURE were specifically designed for indoor gym training and if you've ever spent more than ten minutes on an elliptical machine you know how important it is to be able to have full toe motion. Now that I have them, I don't know how I lived without them.

C) I feel better on the days that I work. I thought between the symptoms of IIH and Diamox tearing up my insides that my days off would be my refuge, but in fact it's the routine days that keep me feeling best. I think it mostly has to do with diet and activity levels. On days that I work, I have the same meals:

Breakfast:
1 bowl of cereal with 1/2 cup of skim, this week it's Bran Flakes. I rotate Lucky Charms, Cheerios, Frosted Flakes, and Life, depending on my mood. When I run out of cereal, I have plain oatmeal with cranberries. I ALWAYS have a banana at breakfast, I hide two Diamox pills inside a chunk of banana first thing in the morning (~6:30am). I spend the morning sipping on a hot beverage, either 20 oz. of masala chai or apple cider (no coffee!).

Lunch:
Turkey sandwich, 1 slice of cheese (usually deli fresh American or pepper jack) on 2 slices of whole wheat bread. ALWAYS 100% WHOLE WHEAT. I'll have a side of veggies, usually baby carrots and a few sticks of celery, or a string cheese if I'm out of produce, or a handful of chips if my grocery situation is desperate.

I have one apple between 1-3pm as a snack, and a plum for after my workout. I'm picky about fruit, but apples and bananas are ALWAYS on my shopping list. I'll add a third and sometimes fourth fruit depending on what's seasonal and what's on sale. Plums were 50 cents a pound last week, I've been waiting for frozen blueberries to drop in price before I jump on a 5 pound bag.

D) Dinner is always, quite literally, whatever I f**king feel like having. AB-SO-LUTE-LY ANYTHING. Last Friday, I was desperate for nachos so cheesy that the chips get soggy. So I made it. But even when cooking up a plate so inherently unhealthy as nachos, I was mindful about a few things: it couldn't just be a plate of chips and cheese. I cooked some lean ground turkey for protein, I threw heaps of vegetables into the cheese sauce (petite diced tomatoes, fresh jalapenos, cilantro, onion, garlic), held back on adding salt, and I limited the size of my serving.

And that's exactly how I live my life at dinner -- I can have whatever I want, in moderation.

6. Honesty is the best policy. Despite my absolute dedication to the gym in the last month-and-a-half, I knew that I wasn't giving it my all, but spending more time at the gym wasn't an option. So I picked up another activity! And now I'm very very happy I did, but I almost cheated myself of this awesome revelation. Blogging keeps me honest, it keeps me sane, and it helps me sort the good days from the bad.

la deuxieme fois.

Because it's Monday, and because I'm highly productive today, here's a second post.

My Christmas Wishlist:

1. Adidas Adipure Trainer for women, any color. ($90, here)

I desperately need these. My best workouts have come from wearing ballet flats, but my feet sweat and make my pretty shoes stinky so it's not a sustainable plan. BUT THESE WILL CHANGE MY LIFE. I swear it.

2. Nike + iPod Sport Kit ($28, here)

The iPod Nano 6th gen that Ross gave me for my birthday last year has changed my workouts forever, and if things continue at this pace I'll have to reintroduce running sooner rather than later.

3. Wireless, waterproof, headphones that AREN'T bluetooth. I haven't found any yet, probably because they don't exist.

4. Heart rate monitor ($?, this pretty Garmin piece is my dream)

I'm concerned that the heart rate monitor on my favorite elliptical isn't working properly, plus I'd love to have something I can take outdoors with me. And as an added bonus, any monitor that will allow me to upload workout data for evaluating is an uber plus.

resorting to bribery.

I was upset. My workouts haven't been going my way due to my foot issue, and I'm afraid that super awesome food side effect thing from Diamox has run its course and my appetite is back and swinging. Despite all my work this week, I gained a pound.

But in retrospect, I don't think I did.

On Thurs 11/3, I was at 284. Dr Stern wrote in her notes that I had lost 8 pounds.
On Sun 11/6, I weighed myself at 277. Of course, I was thrilled to have that miracle.

But the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. There is NO WAY I lost 7 pounds in less than 4 days. My boyfriend was out of town and my eating/drinking/sleeping habits were way out of whack. I was most likely dehydrated.

This week, I have most definitely stayed hydrated, which is probably why the scale has been fighting me. But over the last few days I've consistently weighed in at 277 or 278, depending on food and BM and water intake.

Today is Mon 11/14. So between 11/3 and 11/14, I've lost 6-7 pounds. NOT TOO SHABBY.

The point of this demonstration is to show myself that 7 pounds over the course of the weekend is a lovely thought, but 1) it's not healthy, 2) it's not likely, and 3) it'll only set you up for disappointment down the line.

To celebrate my cumulative TWENTY pounds, I ordered new panties from Victoria's Secret. People keep asking me if I feel different. I can't say I do. I notice little things here and there, but nothing that makes me feel like I'm in total control. Every day is definitely a struggle.

But the one thing I have noticed is that my panties fit better. And since I'm not likely to be dropping panty sizes any time soon, I figured that was the best way to reward myself for a great deal of progress. It's an investment in my future outlook! Ha.

Other great news: I washed my favorite jeans this weekend. Washed AND dried. Normally, that would make me want to kill myself having to peel them back on and pray to Jesus that they stretch before I lose consciousness. But today when I put them on, they slid PERFECTLY, and doing the zipper was EASY and not painful.

These jeans fit they way they were supposed to... without me having to spend three days stretching them out first. LIFE WIN.

feel like i'm on top of the world (with ur love)

Okay so.

I'm stuck at work and this abundance of energy is killing me. As usual, I went for my 4am trip to the exercise room to make nice with the elliptical. Less than a minute in my feet were killing. BOTH. I had to stop in under ONE MINUTE.

Maybe I'm sick masochist, but I've never not been able to last a minute. I've never not been able to last ten. So what gives?

It was so bad, I cut my losses at 25 minutes when I reached exactly 2 miles (12.5 minute mile average.... fucking seriously?? disappointing). I came back to my desk to start googling what might be causing foot pain (again) because my self-diagnosed bursitis might not be the culprit. On the second link I clicked, a person had posted a response about someone else's numb toes (thanks for nothing, I already solved that problem) but I saw that she listed herself as an IH sufferer in her user tag, complete with a link to her blog and a link to another IH support blog.

Firstly, I hate that they call it IH. The first I Is Incredibly Important (ha, see what I did there?). Idiopathic. Doctors and random strangers off the street need to know that. GET IT RIGHT.

Secondly... either I really am a sick masochistic fuck, or I am seriously abnormal. Or both. My mom would definitely put her vote in for both.

When I was first diagnosed I was bombarded with questions about headaches and seeing things and a possible whooshing noise and a million other weird things that made no sense to me at the time. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. But, as my lovely neurologist will tell you, nothing has changed for me.

I guess I have fewer headaches now, but the headaches I had before were NEVER of the caliber that would keep me from work, or from functioning at all. Thinking back on it now, I guess I did have a little tinnitus, but only ever after strenuous activity or bending over and it would last a few seconds before it went away. I have a random collection of short little memories that, at the time, I believed to be normal for everyone. Clearly, I was wrong.

On the flip side of that same coin, I'm annoyed with my fellow IIH counterparts who assume that everyone suffers from a debilitating brain condition just by being labeled IIH.

That leaves me with two options: either my case is mild, or I'm a sick masochistic fuck with an unusually high pain tolerance.

I'm going to forgo a definitive answer to that prompt, because I'm much more comforted by the idea that I'm abnormal. In this case, abnormal is good. At least this way I still have more than just the illusion of a shot at normalcy.





I'm struggling to decide if this morning's two miles is enough to satisfy a "workout" or if I should try again later tonight. Perhaps barefoot? I know I should probably give my body a break since I have been ESPECIALLY good lately, but I hate the idea of knowing that I'm skipping a workout when I so desperately need to be trying harder. It's not even so much about losing weight, I just feel useless not working out. Bah humbug.

Cher Lloyd is changing the way I workout. cause they know that you own it

the one that got away.

I guess I don't talk about this enough: I have turned into a gym rat.

When I wake up I think about my workout, at work I'm thinking about my workout, during my workout I'm obsessing about my workout. After my workout, I'm thinking about the next one. Before bed, I'm packing and getting ready for tomorrow's workout. When I'm bored or have extra time and energy, I think about working out. Even if I've already gone once that day.

OUT OF CONTROL.

I'm motivated by results, so naturally, I'll be stuck on this obsession for a while.


Other notes on the day:

I think I'm in love with my neurologist. Maybe.

I opted not to go to the university due to a previous experience there, and I chose Mercy because of my super awesome treatment for my super emergency tonsillectomy. Plus, (don't tell my boyfriend) I like the idea of a hospital with faith. In all my years of living here, Mercy has been good to me.

One of the best ophthalmologists in town is a doctor at Mercy and she ended up being the one I first came to see. She specializes in glaucoma, so I'm her youngest patient by about 40 years (no joke) but she is hands down ah-may-ZING. She is the one who referred me to Dr Stern. This is where it gets interesting.

The administrative staff there aren't the most accommodating bunch, there was lots of confusion about scheduling my first visit, then they wanted to reschedule on the days we were in Vegas, then we picked a day we all agreed on and the doc was nowhere to be found. On my very first visit, she showed up a bit late, wasn't expecting me, spent 5 minutes with me before she scheduled an MRI for two weeks later.

NOT COOL, BRO.

After much teeth pulling, we got the MRI for that same afternoon and set up the lumbar puncture for two days later. Yeah... let's talk about that lumbar puncture.

I was in agony for almost an hour, she went through two kits playing pin the tail on my spinal cord before my blood pressure spiked and they took a break. She left to get another kit and when she came back I was crying uncontrollably, which seemed to make her very uncomfortable. And then she went MIA. My nurse asked where my physician went; of course we had no idea. There was a hustle, then a group of three doctors in green scrubs came to save me. I wish I remembered their names because they were awesome.

My most recent appointment I was nervous, mostly due to my obvious issues with authority. Not to mention, she's skinny and pretty and a fucking neurologist for christ's sake. I want to impress her... but sadly, I'm just me. But this time she was really nice! We chatted and for a brief second I thought to myself, I can actually see this working in the long-run. The sad truth of IIH is that I need to get intimately familiar with my neuro, even if it's her.

She was so responsive and supportive that for the first time I felt REALLY GOOD about my condition. And then I got the voicemails of doom. Truth be told, I've probably listened to them 50 times collectively. What really gets me is how human she is. She is an attractive lady, but without the visuals it's a different story.

I can do awkward and gawky.

I got so caught up in the entire package, a young and pretty neurologist, and I was seeing green that I never stopped to realize what kind of person it takes to specialize in this field: nerds. So my young, pretty, genius neurologist, she's just a geek.

And that is definitely something I can learn to love.

dodged a bullet.

Dr Stern called on Friday and left an ominous voicemail. I called back within an hour but she had already left. Receptionist told me she would be back on Tuesday.

Today's Tuesday. I woke up to my phone ringing, and I had every intention of answering, except my boyfriend was still in bed. And if this was at all what I was thinking it was, I wanted him nowhere near me.

So she left another voicemail. This one even worse than the first.

I had to wait what felt like hours for boyfriend to leave for work, at which point I jumped out of bed and called back. She was with a patient.

I left a message with the receptionist asking that the doc call me back.

40 minutes later, my phone rang. Before I could cry (or die), I answered.

"Hi Ana, this is Dr Stern. How are you today?"
Fucking great, let's get this out of the way, mmkay?

My sodium bicarbonate levels are the the lowest of the low end. Meaning that the last five days I spent thinking I was pregnant... NOT FUCKING PREGNANT.

So my bicarbonate... low, but acceptable. At least for my previous dosing levels. But now that I'm up 250mg a day, the doc is concerned. She's asked that I come in for another blood test next Tuesday or Wednesday so that my body will have time to adjust to the new dosage and she'll have a better picture of what's going on.

Sodium fucking bicarbonate.

Apparently, sodium fucking bicarbonate (yes, that's its scientific name) is pretty important. This is the beginning of the icky side effects of being on Diamox. Exactly what I was trying to avoid. My pharmacy-minded boyfriend told me it's most likely that my recent weight loss/workout routine may be the cause, which naturally I am unwilling to abandon, so I'm in a bit of a pickle.

For now, I stick to my 500mg in the morning and 750mg at night. Drink water like crazy, eat bananas like its my job, work out like my life depended on it. So basically, the norm.

Hasta miercoles.

revolution, you say ha.

I discovered the single serving today. It's rocking my world.

Last night I accidentally skipped dinner but a guest had given me these 140 calorie breakfast trail mix things and I nibbled on one throughout the course of the day. It wasn't until Mr Ryan asked me at 9:30pm if I had had dinner that I realized I hadn't. He gave me $5. This, in addition to the $6 from my boss, would have been plenty to take to any of the restaurants surrounding my work, and I wholeheartedly intended to grab some grub before the end of the night but hunger never struck me.

Seriously. It just never happened.

When I went home at 6am I realized that there was a rumbly in my tumbly, so I made myself an egg sandwich (un oeuf, half a piece of turkey, 1 slice of cojack cheese, and a hunk of baguette sliced into 2 pieces with a squirt of ketchup and spices). For the tailgate, I brought a nalgene of hot chocolate and 5 ounces of peppermint schnapps, and I munched on some chips, celery and buffalo chicken dip, although I must express my pride at the amount I consumed.

It wasn't that I was showing restraint, at no point did I limit myself in quantity, I simply lost interest after a few nibbles. I never felt stuffed or deprived, it was a perfect balance!

I walked home two miles in the cold, the whole time I was expecting for my legs or ankles or knees to give me problems, or to be panting beyond comfort but instead I felt like there was pep in my step even all the way up to my apartment door.

So I guess working out really is working :)

For dinner I heated up a tupperware of leftover soup and ate half of its contents. It was enough for half a bowl, which is 1/4 of what I normally eat in terms of soup. I made one grilled cheese sandwich (2 slices cojack, 2 slices whole wheat bread) to accompany the soup. With some struggling, I finished them both, but I'm glad I ate it all because I knew I had a long night ahead of me.

I weighed myself after my nap today... 280.5!!! It's tremendous to think that I'm less than a pound away from saying au revoir to the 280s forever. I've been stuck at this ten pound stretch for long enough that I'm thrilled to see it go.

Today, I can say I'm proud of myself. I love the way my body is changing, the way my clothes fit and the way I feel moving around.

It. Feels. Great.

OH. MY. FUCKYESSSSS.

So I had my three month (actually, it's been four months now) follow-up with my neurologist today. I've been nervous all week, falling just short of dread, thinking that I wasn't making enough progress. I wasn't consistently taking my meds (I'm an entire bottle behind schedule) and I feel like my weight loss has been slow, which is silly because it's not like she said anything about needing to lose weight. This one was all my own.

So I walked into the hospital a few minutes late, took a detour to the restroom, and walked out to find that I was only a few steps behind her! I had to wait less than a minute after checking in with the receptionist before I was in an examination room.

We chatted about holiday travel plans and discussed headaches (which wasn't much of a discussion since I was first referred to her office lacking this single telltale symptom of IIH). She took her fancy tool and turned off the lights to take a look at my optic nerve after doing a quick visual field exam. This was the part I was worried about.

Her words: Almost perfect.

ALMOST PERFECT! I've never been so happy to be slightly abnormal. I had my Diamox dose increased slightly, now I'll be taking three pills at night instead of two, and the doc expects that I will be NORMAL come February when I have my next appointment.

My weight loss calculator also suggests that I'll have lost an additional 20 pounds by the day of my scheduled appointment, meaning that my total weight loss will be 10% of my starting weight, which was the original goal and the point at which IIH starts to be cured.

CURED. I expect to be off these meds by next summer. !!!!!

I took a minute to taking in the gravity of these words before I called all the people I love to let them know the news. And then I took my ass to the gym.

I did 46 minutes, 4 miles, 705 calories, my heart rate was consistently between 150-156 the entire time, averaging 59 RPMs. Oh, and I stepped it up to level 2 and I didn't even notice.

Oh. My. Fuck. Yesssssssss.

refreshing departure.

I had my second full-hour workout yesterday. I was having a bad day and I had forgotten my iPod at home, so I was feeling pretty dismal about the workout even before I had gotten started. I thought for sure I wasn't going to make it past 30 minutes.

Somewhere along the 18 minute mark I started having problems with my toes going numb, at 29 minutes I loosened my laces. Two minutes after that, I kicked off my shoes entirely. I finished the last half hour of my workout barefoot save a pair of thin ankle socks. Two things I noticed:

1. I can't go as fast without shoes. While I had the shoes on, I was consistently doing 57-59 RPMs. Barefoot, I couldn't break 54.

2. With shoes, I am significantly less aware of what's going on with my feet. That being said, I appreciate not having the distraction. It was annoying spending the last thirty minutes being hyper aware of the ridges and grooves of the pedals etching their shape onto the soles of my feet. Also, I was more prone to gradual slipping wearing only socks which was throwing off my stance.

Problems abound.


Progress has been slow, as expected. But I'm not discouraged! Quite the opposite, really. I feel better after I workout, it makes me feel happier and stronger and (dare I even say it?) sexier. I haven't lost much weight, but I feel different. Sure, my weight is still up there, but NOT FOR LONG! I feel like I'm well on my way to changing.

But still, things have been slow. So I've been doing some research to see if there's something I'm missing (like patience) or something I should be doing more of (exercising) or something I should cut back on (everything that enters my mouth). And instead, I get this shit from the Mayo Clinic:

"For most healthy adults, the Department of Health and Human Services recommends:"

Blah blah blah, I'm not a healthy adult. I'm 25, really overweight, and on a diuretic. Yes, I get the whole "diet and exercise" thing. But how much, how often, and how do you know you're doing it right?

Don't say weight loss, don't say weight loss, don't say weight loss.

Look, I'm not competing on the Biggest Loser here, I don't expect to lose ten pounds a week. I don't want my stomach stapled, and I don't want to develop an eating disorder. I'm too young and pretty to have to deal with saggy skin issues. Slow and steady wins the race, non?

But slow and steady is about to kill my drive if I don't get some affirmation from someone, somewhere... I just need to know that this is going to work.

I really need this to work.